


and lighting the fuse might result in a bang

by mrobrotzly



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (slightly jealous tbh), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is a tease, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP without Porn, Rimming, Spanking, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrobrotzly/pseuds/mrobrotzly
Summary: [...] "You're a fucking tease, you know it?" he said burying his face in the curve of Jaskier's neck, taking a deep breath and making the troubadour shiver."I don't know what you're talking about" he wrapped his arms around the Witcher's body, tilting his head to the side, giving Geralt better access to brush his lips on the skin."You can't tease me like that and expect not to be punished" he snarled in the bard's ear, Jaskier tried not to moan "You know what that means, don't you?""Geralt..." he whispered, whimpering when he felt a light bite on his neck.“Bed. On your hands and knees.Now."[...]
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 255





	and lighting the fuse might result in a bang

**Author's Note:**

> so today is my birthday and i decided it would be a great gift to myself (and maybe to you) to write more geraskier smut!
> 
> hope you enjoy it ♡
> 
> (also: english is not my first language, if you find a mistake here just tell me and i'll do my best to correct this)

Geralt was sitting at a table in the corner while the music was playing, Jaskier had been singing for over an hour, wandering around the room and dancing with the people who were standing, occasionally swirling around the barmaid with a smirk. The bard winked, silently flirting with anyone who came close.

Geralt had left early that day and when he returned, Jaskier was already starting the performance, the Witcher just nodded and went up to the room to take a shower, with the atmosphere as it was, the room full of people - and him attracting attention for being covered in mud and blood - Geralt didn't look at Jaskier twice, but now, hiding part of his face behind a tankard, his attention was all on the bard.

His attention was on his fingers playing the lute strings, graceful and experienced, on how the tip of his tongue occasionally appeared between his lips, on how the yellowish light of the candles reflected in the immensity of blue that was his eyes and in how he made the room more vibrant with energy, cheering everyone around while more coins were thrown in the lute's case.

But what really made Geralt want to growl was the way he moved around, strategically to never leave the Witcher's visual field, but precisely, to almost always keep his back to him, because Jaskier was wearing pants that hugged every part of him, tight on his ass and thighs, showing how the years of traveling on foot have done him well - oh, very well - and _the bastard_ knew that Geralt was looking, he knew that he was practically irresistible not only for the Witcher, but for most of the people who were in the room, and obviously he took advantage of that.

Geralt tightened his fingers around the tankard, watching the troubadour bend over - raising his ass a little 'cause of course he would that - to sing some of the lyrics to a young woman who was sitting next to him and practically drooling while watching the performance, not only she but the man beside her flushed, bright red, with the bard's sudden approach.

But what was really torture wasn't seeing Jaskier flirting or not being able to touch him or lick his lips and mark every part of his neck, no, the torture was the short breaks the bard did to drink or eat something before start to play again. Every time he approached Geralt's table, sitting absurdly close, sliding his hands on the Witcher's thigh in a false innocence, speaking in a lower than normal voice, the same voice he used in the bedroom (or in the open, against a tree, or lying on the ground or even in the stable for not wanting to wait to get to the room, well…).

And, fuck, he sat on Geralt's lap, grinding his hips, smelling strongly of arousal and lust, saying casually that he might have forgotten to wear underwear, making Geralt's blood boil and the bulge in his pants grow, but before the Witcher could pull him up the stairs, the bard stood up and continued to perform as if nothing had happened. The Witcher asked for another ale, feeling his control fading as he imagined tearing up those pants.

Another 30 minutes of this before Jaskier finished his performance and Geralt was ready to get up and lock both of them in their room until dawn, but Jaskier was _still a bastard_ and decided it would be best to continue chatting, laughing and flirting, whispering things for men and women, drinking ale that he certainly hadn't paid for.

Geralt didn't consider himself jealous - not when he knew that Jaskier wasn't really interested in the people around him, that everything was part of the bard's persona - but watching the amount of fierce looks from people who seemed to want to devour every part of Jaskier's body didn’t ease the growl stuck in his chest, he wanted to pull the bard to him, bite and suck his neck, mark it to make it clear that he was accompanied.

The bard must have noticed that his grip on the tankard tightened, a smirked spreading across his face and he winked, it was at that moment that Geralt gave up, Jaskier would continue that performance for hours if he allowed it. The Witcher got up, going to the table where the troubadour was sitting (sitting _on_ the table, sometimes the bard didn't know what chairs were for) and immediately the people around him stopped talking.

"Bedtime" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier laughed.

"Okay, mom" the people around him chuckled and he leaned over to whisper something to a young man in front of him, something that obviously Geralt also could hear "Thank you for the ale, hope we meet again sometime" he winked, leaving the table and following a Witcher who did everything he could to keep the last remnants of control.

Less than five seconds after Jaskier closed the door to their room, Geralt pushed him against the wall, pressing his body to the bard's.

"You're a fucking tease, you know it?" he said burying his face in the curve of Jaskier's neck, taking a deep breath and making the troubadour shiver.

"I don't know what you're talking about" he wrapped his arms around the Witcher's body, tilting his head to the side, giving Geralt better access to brush his lips on the skin.

"You can't tease me like that and expect not to be punished" he snarled in the bard's ear, Jaskier tried not to moan "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Geralt..." he whispered, whimpering when he felt a light bite on his neck.

“Bed. On your hands and knees. _Now."_

He stepped aside, making room for the bard, Jaskier bit his lip pretending to be nervous, but the strong smell of his arousal, sweet and spicy, made it clear that this was exactly what he wanted.

"You do it on purpose, don't you?" the bard shrugged, trying not to smile, going to the bed. Geralt grunted, watching his ass on display and, finally, the Witcher pulled the cloth with both hands, tearing his trousers, hearing a yelp in response.

“You brute! I liked those pants!” Jaskier turned his head to look at Geralt, clearly offended.

"Well, this is supposed to be a punishment."

“For me, not for my clothes!” he pouted, but soon afterwards he let out a whimper as the Witcher tightly gripped his butt.

"Ten" he said hoarsely, making the bard shiver, eyes fixed on the exposed skin - he really wasn't wearing underwear "You count."

Jaskier only had time to nod before Geralt's heavy palm hit his ass, he whinned, lowering his head and feeling his cock throb.

"Count" the Witcher said in a grunt, repeating the act, the sound of his hand hitting the skin was loud this time.

"Two" Jaskier said and took a deep breath, they had just started he didn't want to show how affected he was and how much he liked it - even though he knew Geralt knew.

Geralt murmured, running his thumb over the smooth skin that gradually became red and marked and while doing so, without warning, he slapped the other cheek, causing Jaskier to let out a surprised groan.

"Not fair" he said breathlessly "Three."

"This is really not a punishment for you, right?" he slid his hand in front of the bard's body, feeling the bulge in his pants (at least the front of the trousers was intact, but he didn't think the rest could be fixed).

"Geralt..." Jaskier moaned weakly, trying to go forward with his hips, wanting more of the touch.

The Witcher denied him, making the bard growl, but when he opened his mouth to complain he was surprised by the hand hitting him firmly and he groaned. Before he had a chance to continue counting Geralt started a sequence, varying the speed, sometimes letting the bard catch his breath, other times not, without changing the strength of the hits, leaving the skin red and hot.

At number ten, Jaskier moaned loudly, it was stronger than the others, a sharp pain running through his body mixed with pleasure, he felt his legs weak as he gasped, his painfully hard cock begging for release, he whimpered something that might have been the Witcher's name.

"You stopped counting" he caressed the back of the troubadour's thigh "Maybe I should punish you for that too and not let you come."

Jaskier shook his head several times.

"No?" Geralt ran his fingers lightly over the bulge in his pants, with the other hand firmly gripped his hips to keep the bard from moving.

"Please..." he said in a whisper, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the touch.

"I didn't hear you, Jaskier" Geralt grinned, going with his hips forward and pressing against the hot skin of the bard's ass.

Jaskier's moan was mixed with a whimper.

"Geralt, please!" he raised his voice a bit, feeling the Witcher grinding against him, murmuring thoughtfully.

Fortunately Geralt moved to do something, but unfortunately that made him no longer touch Jaskier.

"Don't move" the Witcher got up from the bed, looking for something in one of the bags for a moment and when he returned to stand behind Jaskier he held a vial of oil that was half full. The bard propped himself up on his elbows, raised his ass and spread his legs, Geralt grunted.

"Fucking gorgeous" he said hoarsely, Jaskier moaned softly, feeling his face heat up.

The Witcher brought both hands to the bard's ass, squeezing it tightly, watching his fingertips sink into the hot, reddish skin.

Jaskier held his breath, not knowing what Geralt's next move would be, the Witcher realized that, a wolfish smile spreading across his face, he moved his hands, opening the bard's cheeks and lowering his head, bringing his face close to his hole and licked a straight, linear stripe, receiving a surprised groan in response.

He repeated it, teasing, running his tongue around the hole, pressing the tip and threatening to penetrate, Jaskier let his body slide, laying his torso on the bed, raising his hips, face pressed against the sheet, mouth open involuntarily letting out the sounds, his hips jerked trying to find something that he could rub his cock, his pants starting to get wet with pre-cum.

“Geralt…” he moaned, muffled by the sheet “Geralt, please…”

But Geralt was _also_ a bastard, he penetrated the tip of his tongue slowly and so briefly that Jaskier considered it torture, he heard the Witcher chuckle at the disgruntled grunt he let out.

“Always impatient” he licked again - only around the hole.

"Fuck, Geralt, stop teasing!" the bard tried to move his hips, but was still being held tightly.

"You tease me all night and can't take a few minutes of it?" Geralt smirked, pulling his face away and finally releasing Jaskier "Don't even try to move."

The bard grunted, burying his face further in the sheet.

"I fucking hate you," he said muffled, listening to the sound of the cork being pulled out of the oil vial and the Witcher's hoarse laughter.

Geralt coated his fingers with the oil and poured some of the liquid into Jaskier's rear, watching him shiver. Doing the same movement he did with his tongue, seeing how the troubadour controlled himself not to move. Slowly he penetrated a finger.

Jaskier bit his lip, whining, closing his eyes feeling the finger moving inside him, Geralt watched his reaction carefully. He thrusted his fingers once, twice, three times, until he was able to find that bundle of nerves that made Jaskier moan loudly and arch his back.

The Witcher grinned, pressing his fingertip over the same spot again, the bard already clenching, his cock throbbing. The second finger slid in, thrusting and scissoring, opening and stretching Jaskier, Geralt allowed him to roll his hips - since he was doing it involuntarily - and seeing this reminded him that his own pants were uncomfortably tight around his cock.

He increased the speed, thrusting the fingers harder, making the bard moan so beautifully for him. With the third finger in, Jaskier was already a mess, hip jerking, babbling words and the Witcher's name over and over, asking, begging, crying out for more.

Geralt groaned, watching his fingers being sucked in the heat of Jaskier's body one last time before taking them out and finally lowering his own pants only enough to let his cock free.

He brought his hands to Jaskier's waist, laying him on his back. Jaskier's lips were reddish, eyes half open, the blue being devoured by the black of his pupils and he was panting, in the front of his trousers a very noticeable bulge and a spot wet with pre-cum

"Gorgeous" he said again and the bard closed his eyes, moaning weakly.

"Geralt..." he whimpered, the Witcher smirked, tearing the rest of the pants and throwing the cloth somewhere in the room, this time Jaskier didn't say anything, a sense of pride grown in Geralt's chest for knowing that the bard was already so wrecked that he didn't even complain. 

Geralt stroke his own length, spreading the oil, a groan caught in his throat.

He pulled the bard's legs toward him and instantly Jaskier crossed them around the Witcher's waist, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against his hole. Geralt leaned over the bard, foreheads touching, drinking at the sight of those eyes full of love and lust before starting a kiss and finally sliding inside. And, fuck, Jaskier felt him deep, stretching and filling him so wonderfully.

The kiss didn't stop, increasing the intensity as they both felt fire run through their veins, melting at the touches, moaning low against each other lips as Geralt slowly rolled his hips.

When Jaskier started moving too, Geralt got the message, he pressed the bodies together, the bard tightened his legs around his body and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around the Witcher's neck, moaning loudly and breaking the kiss when Geralt went forward with his hip in a sharp and quick thrust. He didn't stop, repeating the movement without rhythm or warning, swallowing every gasp, moan and cry that Jaskier let out, kissing him intensely.

When he hit that spot that made the bard see stars, Jaskier dug his nails into his back, tipping his head back and exposing his neck perfectly for Geralt to bite, kiss and suck, the speed of his thrusts increasing while he fucked Jaskier hard. The bard moaned, curling his toes, repeating Geralt's name over and over. The Witcher slid his body over his, causing a delicious friction, the bard's cock trapped between them.

Geralt groaned, low and deep, feeling Jaskier clenching tight around his lenght as they kissed desperately, his hips losing pace as the troubadour tried to move even though it was a difficult task with the Witcher on top of him.

The bard felt his orgasm coming, hitting him at the same moment that Geralt bit his neck hard, he opened his mouth, but the sound getting stuck in his throat, eyes closed as he searched for something to grab - scratching the Witcher back even more - curling his toes as a shock went up his spine and his vision whitened with pleasure.

Geralt came seconds later, Jaskier impossibly tighter around him, his hips failed the pace of the thrusts and he buried his face in the curve of the bard's neck, going as deep as he could and feeling his whole body tremble as he came hard inside Jaskier with a hoarse, muffled groan.

Both are panting, the Witcher giving small kisses on the troubadour's neck, mainly on the mark of the bite. He moved his hip slowly, pulling out and hearing Jaskier sigh at the feeling.

They kissed slowly and lazily, the bard stretching his legs on the bed, they looked at each other for a few seconds, smiling and enjoying the afterglow.

"You're going to clean us up" Jaskier said, patting Geralt on the shoulder, the Witcher rolled his eyes. "And I want a massage, my ass deserves it."

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, kissing Jaskier's forehead.

“You know you didn't” the bard stroked Geralt's hair “I like it a little rough.”

Geralt laughed, getting up, Jaskier winced when the movement spread some of his cum over his stomach.

"This was supposed to be a punishment" he grabbed the fabric of what was once Jaskier's pants, dip it into a small bucket of water they had in the room and approached the bed to clean up the mess they made.

"Say that to my poor pants," the bard said, making no effort to help Geralt as the cloth slid down his body. "Frankly, do you know how expensive it was? I thought you would like the way it looks on my body. ”

"Hm" finished the service he discarded the fabric, throwing it somewhere in the room "I liked it a little too much."

Jaskier laughed, opening his arms and pulling him to lie with his head on his chest.

They were silent for a few seconds, one hand of the bard stroking the Witcher's hair and the other holding Geralt's.

"You know," he said, a smirk on his face "I bought two of these."

Geralt murmured, wondering where he was going with this.

"Maybe one day I'll do a private performance only for you..."

The Witcher looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If you deserve it, obviously."

"And do you think I deserve it?" he ran his fingers through the hair on Jaskier's chest.

The bard smiled.

"Only if you give me that massage, come on, Geralt, get the chamomile!"

Geralt laughed, rolling his eyes, but still got out of bed.

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ if you enjoy my work, toss a coin to your writer, please, links are on my twitter ☕️ thank you ♡  
> [ ♡ twitter ♡ ](http://twitter.com/sorcererjaskier)


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